


not real glory

by sabinelagrande



Series: two flints [13]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Dom/sub, Failgang, First Time, Humor, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Petty Theft, Spanking, Unsubtle Come Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: There is a new criminal outfit in town, and they need allies.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Richard Herring
Series: two flints [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639948
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	not real glory

Starting a criminal outfit is a tricky business. There are a lot of things to consider, things that are logistical and things that are more complicated, not that Daisy doesn't find logistics frustratingly complicated. They've got a hideout, sure. They've made some connections, great. But they are a small fish in a sea of fishes, and the school they choose to swim in will make a lot of difference.

"What if we have to ask him for a favor later?" Johnny says. "We're better off getting his attention now and ingratiating ourselves, instead of showing up well down the line and looking like a big threat."

Of all of them, Johnny's got the experience in the criminal realm. He knows the players and how the game works. People like Johnny a lot, because he has that way about him. This is because most of them don't know he'll go batshit crazy at the drop of a hat. It never seems to be at anyone, though; he just melts down on himself.

Daisy still doesn't know why he's called Vegas. He is very clearly not Spanish.

"Do we really want to ask him for a favor ever?" Mawaan says skeptically. "I heard somebody disappeared because he didn't like a tomato they brought him."

Mawaan is the creative one, which is a thing not every gang has but Daisy figures is useful. He thinks about things differently than the rest of them; he's an innovator. He's also their in with the artistic crowd, but Daisy has no idea how that is useful. The point is, Mawaan has big ideas, and that's a thing they do need.

He's also a good shape physically. Thin and strong is highly underrated, and Daisy wasn't thin to begin with.

"I'm sure he can be reasoned with," Katherine says, unconcerned. "Those sorts of men just need to be flattered, and then they're easy to sway."

Katherine is their ticket into posh territory; Daisy thinks she secretly is posh and is just playing it off. What's important is that she's brilliant and has more poise than the rest of them put together. She can slip into places far above her station and look completely at home, and she just knows things that the rest of them miss.

She is also maybe having a nervous breakdown. Can't be helped.

"I think we just need to talk to him, one organization to another, and make sure we all have a good impression of one another," Richard says. "Nothing wrong with some well-placed diplomacy to benefit all of us."

Richard is an odd duck, though Daisy is aware that her perception of him as an odd duck mostly says that she's an odd duck. She's not sure what he's even doing in the criminal world, because he's soft and friendly and intelligent. And yet, he seems to make allies, so why not.

Richard is laboring under the assumption that he is the leader of the gang. Daisy hasn't told him he's wrong, because she really doesn't need to. He accepts without question that he needs a bodyguard, which is all Daisy needs to make sure he doesn't fuck up too badly.

"Then we go down there and we make ourselves known," Daisy says. "Either he's with us or he's not."

Daisy is the muscle. She is also the leader, regardless of Richard's opinion on the subject. The organization she's got going is solid, but she knows it's time to catch the attention of some of the bigger names. If they don't, they'll be left in the dust, or worse, snuffed out like they're nothing.

"We're going to meet the Taskmaster," Daisy says, and nobody dares to argue.

-

Greg looks up when the curtain at the entrance to the hall leading to Sally's section moves; it's Iain, which is unusual. Iain has a post and rarely leaves it during what one would consider business hours. Granted, sometimes he's at said post drinking a beer and gossiping, but he is a relatively faithful sentinel nonetheless. If he's here, something's up.

"Ah, boss," Iain says, looking uncertain. "I have some people looking for an audience."

"What do they want?" the Taskmaster asks.

"They say they want to make an introduction," Iain says.

The Taskmaster frowns. "They want to introduce someone to me?"

"I think they want to introduce themselves, but they just said it wrong," Iain says. "Like how people try to use words they think are posh to sound posh. They're trying to be something but there's nothing to them."

The actual reason Iain is on the door is that he retains the skepticism and snap judgment of a barrister, even though he hasn't been one for a long time. It's incredibly useful in a bouncer, though the professions are considered very different.

"Interesting," the Taskmaster says. He considers asking his assistant what to do, but he already knows the answer; Alex will say they are to be sent away. At this point, especially with the misstep he made with Acaster, Greg's more into the ounce of prevention. They're probably nothing, but what if they're not?

"Send them in," the Taskmaster says imperiously, and Iain gives him a nod and goes back out through the curtain.

"You think?" Greg says quietly to Alex.

"No idea what I think," Alex says, frowning. "Suppose we'll have to see."

A few moments later, the curtain moves aside, and two people step in. They're both dressed unremarkably, but not shabbily. There's a little one, a man with gray hair that falls around his shoulders, in a way that Sally would say is unfashionable but Greg thinks suits him. There's also a bigger one, bigger because she's a good bit taller and bigger because she's heavily pregnant.

The bigger one scans the room with a keen eye, making no attempt to hide the fact she's doing it. The little one looks around for a moment, then locks on to Greg. Greg really doesn't know what to make of his expression. He looks awed, but not in the way people usually look awed by the Taskmaster; he doesn't look afraid at all.

"Yes, hello," the little one says, when they're standing before the throne. The bigger one elbows him in the ribs. "I mean, er." He bows deeply. "Great Taskmaster, we have come to make our introductions to your, ah, great presence."

"Uh huh," Greg says.

"We would like to, if we may, that is, formally, and everything-" the little one says.

"Look, I'm Daisy and that's Richard," the bigger one says. "If you haven't heard of us, you're gonna."

The Taskmaster narrows his eyes. "Is that meant to be a promise or a threat?"

"We're not threatening anybody," Richard says quickly. "Definitely not a threat. I mean, we might potentially be a threat, we're just not making a threat-"

"Fuck's sake," Daisy says under her breath. "We came to tell you that we're a new outfit, yeah? And we know you're King Shit and everything around here, but if you don't bother us, we won't bother you. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

"Hm," the Taskmaster says. He flicks a hand at his assistant. "Take that down."

Alex writes down "???" and after a moment adds, "Kill them?" 

Greg reads it and taps twice on the arm of his throne. It seems premature.

The Taskmaster regards them for a moment, taking in the look of them. They're not promising, and ignoring them is a safe bet. Then again, that's just not very fun, and if he doesn't have fun at other people's expense, is he really the Taskmaster?

"Fine," the Taskmaster says. "But if you want my loyalty, you have to earn it."

"Oh," Richard says. "Of course I'll- we'll do whatever you want. Really, anything."

Daisy is going to slap the shit out of him at any moment, and Greg honestly really wants to see it happen. "Yeah, alright," she says. "What needs doing?"

"You'll find out soon enough," the Taskmaster says ominously. He waves a hand at them. "Go."

"Thank you, Taskmaster," Richard says, bowing to him. "We won't fail you in, er, whatever it is that we're meant to not be failing you in."

"Come on," Daisy says, and she hauls him out.

"What on earth was that?" Dave says, after Iain comes back with the all-clear.

"That is an extremely good question," Greg says. He looks over at Alex. "They need something to keep them occupied."

"They definitely do," Alex says, looking towards the curtain with a keen look on his face, and Greg knows his mind is racing.

Greg lets it race. Alex will get there long before he does.

\--

Daisy returns to the hideout with Richard in tow. She's only a little annoyed, and it's mostly because of the way Richard looked, like he'd been hit by a lightning bolt. It's fine if he wants to fuck the Taskmaster if the Taskmaster wants to fuck him, but just half of that is completely unacceptable. Richard doesn't understand weaknesses. That is why Daisy is the leader.

"How did it go?" Mawaan asks. "What is he like?"

"Is he as scary as he's meant to be?" Johnny asks.

"Seems like a decent sort," Richard says, because he would. "Very imposing. Very-" He motions above his own head. "Large."

"Richard wants to fuck him," Daisy says, because she's still annoyed.

"I beg your pardon?" Richard says, shocked.

"So he was hot, then?" Mawaan says, looking intrigued.

"Eh," Daisy says, shrugging. "If you like that sort of thing."

"None of this is true or important," Richard says. "What's important is that he knows who we are now, and we can expect a task."

"What sort of task?" Johnny asks suspiciously.

"We're just gonna have to find out," Daisy says. "I've got no plan until I see something."

"Well," Mawaan says. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Daisy says. "But here we are."

Richard has stepped away slightly, to where Katherine is sitting. "Was he attractive?" she asks, sotto voce.

"Christ," Richard says, needing to be honest with someone. " _So_ attractive."

"I hear he's very big," she says.

" _So_ big," he sighs.

"Now I sort of wish I'd gone," she says.

"I made enough of an ass of myself for the both of us," he assures her. "And we haven't seen the last of him."

"I haven't seen the first of him," she says. "Give someone else a chance."

"I think I will," Richard says. This is already a lot, and it hasn't even started, not really.

Richard thinks he would like for it to.

\--

It's about three o'clock in the morning, and the Taskmaster's section of the House is mostly quiet. The place is manned around the clock, but it's about the time where people who aren't actively working are going to bed. Greg actually sent most everybody away early; around eleven, it started pouring, and it is an unfortunate but little known fact that, excepting murder, crime is not very easy to commit in the rain.

Greg himself is already in bed. The scene is unfathomably domestic, unthinkable even the briefest time ago: Alex is next to him, reading a book, while Greg is looking up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, making an attempt to unwind. The rain is helping, but his brain isn't, refusing to be quiet.

"I can listen if you need," Alex says, turning a page in his book.

Greg skips over being caught out by the fact that Alex can anticipate him, knows his every move, because that's the point of Alex. "What do you make of the two from earlier?" he asks. "The weird ones."

Alex marks his place and puts his book on his lap. "Nothing much, if I'm honest," he says. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, but the unpredictability of people who just aren't very good-"

"Yeah," Greg says, because of course Alex has hit it, in a way that's unlocked it in his head. "Probably it's nothing, but maybe they're going to bumble their way into fucking something important up, or be manipulated by someone more powerful into being a problem."

"Much better if we just manipulate them ourselves," Alex says.

"I'm not ruling it out," Greg says. "I'm not bringing them in. The woman, maybe, but-"

"Didn't like Richard?" Alex says, in a voice Greg can't quite decipher.

"I don't know," Greg says, frowning. "There's something about him that's, I don't know. A little bit-" He pauses, looking for a word. "Toadying? That's not quite it."

Alex doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Is this a test?" he asks, somewhere between confused and suspicious.

"Huh?" Greg says, puzzled.

"He wants to sleep with you," Alex says.

Greg is genuinely thrown. "What?"

"I don't know how that could possibly be a thing you can't identify by now," Alex says.

"Honestly, it has been a long time since someone didn't outright throw themselves at me," Greg points out, raising an eyebrow at him. "I figured he must be the father of, you know, the very pregnant one's baby."

"That doesn't necessarily have an impact," Alex says. He looks thoughtful. "I just wonder the best way to use it."

"That sounds very close to sexual exploitation," Greg says, in a mock pious voice, "and as is right and good, I save all my sexual exploitation for you."

"I'm flattered," Alex says dryly.

"I think you're mostly just sore," Greg says.

Alex shrugs. "It's a good kind of sore."

"Speaking of which," Greg says, not moving his hands, "if you don't get over here and make yourself useful, I'm never going to get to sleep."

Alex all but throws his book on the nightstand, turning towards Greg. "What would you like?"

"Your mouth, and don't make it quick," Greg says, and Alex goes immediately.

There are some things about their relationship that have yet to change, and Greg is not apt to change them. He doubts Alex would approve of any attempt to do so.

\--

It's mid afternoon before anything happens.

There's a sudden banging on the door, and Mawaan immediately goes to see what it is. He comes back with a folded piece of heavy paper, sealed with a red wax seal.

"That was quick," Johnny says.

"From the Taskmaster?" Richard asks.

"Anybody else who'd deliver a letter like that better hope the Taskmaster never finds out," Johnny says. "Go on, open it."

Mawaan breaks the seal, unfolding it. "'To the Friends of Bernard,'" he says. He looks up, pleased. "Hey, he knows our name."

"Just read the thing," Daisy says.

"'You must bring a tribute to the Taskmaster,'" Mawaan reads. "'If your tribute is satisfactory, you will receive the Taskmaster's favor. You have twenty-four hours.'"

"Twenty-four hours?!" Johnny says. "That's barely enough time to make a cup of tea!"

"Is that why your tea is always so bitter?" Katherine asks.

"I'm not finished," Mawaan chides. "'Your time starts now.' There. I'm finished. Now we can panic."

"I'm very happy to panic," Richard says. "What can we get in twenty-four hours that's appropriate and we can afford?"

"Okay, but is it a tribute, to the Taskmaster," Johnny says, demonstrating with his hands, "or is it a tribute to the Taskmaster?"

"Look, it says right here," Daisy says, snatching the paper. "'A tribute to the Taskmaster.' Done."

"No, I know what he means," Richard says, with a grimace. "Is it a tribute- a nice item- or a tribute- a thing made in honor?"

"How can we tell?" Katherine asks, as Daisy scans the paper front and back for additional clues.

"It's just gotta be both," Mawaan says. "Nice things that honor him. You'd want to be honored with nice things, right?"

"That makes sense," Richard says.

"It does say a tribute," Katherine muses. "But surely by this meaning, a tribute could be a collection of items."

"Sure," Daisy says, clearly unconvinced.

"So why don't we all come up with something, then Richard, Daisy, and I will go and deliver them," Katherine says.

"Why the three of you?" Johnny asks suspiciously.

"Of course I'm going," Daisy says.

"Right," Richard says. "Because I'm the leader, and she has to guard me."

"And I have to go to help carry the tribute and present it gracefully," Katherine says.

"I'm not going to argue on this one," Mawaan says. "I don't want to be there if he doesn't like it."

"Then it's settled," Richard says. "Everybody, just- as soon as humanly possible, if you would."

Johnny rubs his chin. "Where's the nearest butcher, do you reckon?"

"I'm just going to go," Katherine says.

\--

It all comes together with surprising alacrity. 

There is something from all of them, an odd collection of items, but not entirely unexpected given the sources. Richard has no idea if the Taskmaster is actually going to like them, but at this point, it is what it is.

He, Daisy, and Katherine set off towards the Taskmaster House with the gifts, though they are awkwardly sized to be carried together. Johnny's gift is particularly troublesome, at least to take a walk with, and all of them are bulky. There is one slight problem:

There is not actually anything from Richard.

He's been thinking desperately, wracking his brain trying to figure it out, and he has been unsuccessful. He hasn't told anybody this; they all think he's got something small that he's carrying on his person. He just can't seem to get there, has found nothing that sparks the memory of the Taskmaster in his mind, lives up to him. His only real plans are to find a store en route and to make some kind of oath of fealty. Neither of these is an actual good plan.

There aren't even really many shops along the path they need to walk, so Richard doesn't know how he's going to settle this. What he needs is some kind of divine intervention, but he really doesn't think the divine is particularly interested in helping him out on this one.

Daisy and Katherine are talking, and Richard is mostly following but not really contributing. They're getting closer, and he still doesn't have any way to express himself. But maybe divine providence has his back for once in his life: there is a man walking towards them, and Richard sees exactly what he needs to see.

"Oh, thank god," Richard says under his breath. He puts the package he's carrying into Katherine's arms; she gives him a confused look, but she sees his signal and doesn't say anything. The man gets closer, and Richard bumps into him. 

"Here, watch where you're going," the man says, looking at him with disgust.

"I'm so terribly sorry," Richard says, smoothing down the man's coat. "I do hope you have a better day after this point."

The man gives him another dirty look, but keeps walking.

"I'm going to walk on ahead, and I'll see you there," Richard says, already taking off at a brisk pace down the street. He really needs to get into the House as quickly as possible, or at least several streets away.

Daisy and Katherine absolutely do not rush in the slightest, but they do eventually join Richard, who is milling about in front of Sally's, smoking a cigarette. "Are we ready?" he says, throwing it into the gutter.

"Fine," Daisy says, looking annoyed. Daisy is usually annoyed with him, which makes him want to cower a bit, but he's working on it. "Let's get this over with."

The same Scotsman is on the door, or rather, the curtain, and he escorts them in. The room is basically as it was the last time, including the Taskmaster, on his throne, the assistant next to him. Richard is struck once again by the physicality of the man; it is not a wonder that the Taskmaster is known for his appetites, because anybody who could look at that man and not want to shag him needs to get their priorities in order.

"Have you completed your task?" the Taskmaster says, looking them over critically.

"Yes, honorable and gracious Taskmaster," Richard says, bowing. "We have returned with a tribute, for you and to you, to show our commitment to our alliance."

"Then begin," the Taskmaster says, giving him nothing to work with.

"For the first tribute to your magnificence," Richard says, and Katherine hoists the largest piece from their collection. "An artist has depicted you in a way befitting your prominence."

"Is that blood?" the Taskmaster asks warily. 

"Yes," Richard says. In the way of Johnny's art, the whole thing looks a little unsettling but a little charming at the same time, but it is very hard to miss that it is painted in what is by now half-oxidized blood. "Johnny asked me to explain that it is not human blood and cannot be used as proof of anybody's guilt in anything."

"Noted," the Taskmaster says. He raises an eyebrow. "And that's your tribute?"

"Oh, we have more," Richard says quickly. "We thought maybe you'd like a lot of little presents instead of one big one."

The Taskmaster flicks a hand at him. "Proceed."

"From the most inventive of our number," Richard says, indicating for Katherine to hold up the hatbox. He opens it, producing what Mawaan insisted was the next big thing. "Everybody knows you like a good hat, but they're quite stuffy, aren't they? Not in an unfashionable way, in a makes your hair stick to your head kind of way."

"Right," the Taskmaster says.

Richard turns the hat, revealing the circle that Mawaan cut out of the top and replaced with a piece of black mesh. It could have been executed better, but they were short on time and none of them are exactly milliners. It doesn't look too bad, actually, especially when it's going to be pointing at the sky a majority of the time. "As a gift for you and a tribute to your style and practicality, a ventilated hat."

"What is a ventilated hat?" the Taskmaster asks, in a way that suggests exasperation.

"You see, the air comes in here," Richard says, pointing illustratively. "So fresh air can come in, and stale air can escape, and your head stays nice and cool."

"It's November," the Taskmaster says.

"Then don't wear it in the snow," Daisy says, like a challenge.

"Fair play," the Taskmaster says. "So, a grisly painting and a ruined hat."

"If I may, Taskmaster, sir," Katherine says, curtseying. "I selected something a bit more refined."

She's going off script, and at this point, Richard is perfectly content to let her. Maybe she can redeem this all a bit, because it doesn't seem to be going too great. The Taskmaster is unimpressed so far, or else is doing a very good job of being impassive. The assistant isn't even looking at them, turning to look at other things in the room.

Katherine's tribute is beautifully wrapped; she neither made it nor wrapped it, because Katherine just always seems to have money. She steps forward and presents it to the Taskmaster, dipping her head before she rejoins Richard and Daisy.

The Taskmaster looks at her keenly, and Richard doesn't like it, for reasons that don't bear examining. He pulls the ribbon on the present, letting the bow come apart before lifting the lid on the box. He frowns, looking back up at Katherine before he takes the contents out. He pulls the whole thing free of the box and shakes it out. It's a sleeveless, low-cut ladies' nightgown; Richard can see from here that it has an indecent amount of detail and lace on it. Moreover, it's made of that thin flimsy cotton stuff that Richard thinks might be called voile, and, as such, is absolutely see-through.

The Taskmaster proves this by laying the nightgown across one of his big hands; it is clearly visible, the material draping in such a way that just screams that it's going to cling in a couple of really interesting places. "This isn't nearly my size," the Taskmaster says.

"It's a tribute to your appreciation for the finer things," Katherine says.

"Like barely clothed women?" the Taskmaster says. He pauses. "I'd be lying if I said you were wrong."

"I thought you could give it to someone you fancy," Katherine says, in that way she has of remaining poised while saying something ridiculous. It does feel a little bit like Katherine bought this for herself, but Richard does not voice that opinion.

"Well, it's the frontrunner so far," the Taskmaster says, and Richard feels at least a little relief. That was a definite point in their favor. If they can stay on track, there's a chance.

"Me next," Daisy says, producing a bottle of clear liquid. The bottle itself is etched glass, without a label, with a cork that doesn't quite seem to be the right size.

"And that is?" the Taskmaster asks.

"Bottle of gin," Daisy says, and Richard resists the urge to sigh.

"Right," the Taskmaster says.

"Who doesn't like a good glass of gin?" Daisy says, a bit defensive. "It's in a nice bottle and everything. You could keep that, put a flower in it, who knows."

"Because like you it is, um, good for many things," Richard says, trying to rescue it. He very much should have put Daisy first. It is impossible to know whether she thought this was genuinely a good idea or whether she just did not care about the prompt at all.

"Not convinced by that one, if I'm honest," the Taskmaster says, and the assistant looks down and puts his fist over his mouth, deep in thought.

"There's one last item," Richard says, reaching into his pocket. He comes out with a gold stick pin; it's adorned with an unusual design, a sapphire at the center with delicate pieces of ruby or garnet surrounding it, swirls of gold to make it look like a flower. It is ostentatious, enough so that Richard saw it from a distance, but when dealing with the Taskmaster, ostentatious really doesn't seem like a problem.

"Did you nick this?" the Taskmaster asks, holding out his hand, and Richard gingerly lays the pin on it.

"Yes," Richard says, though he doesn't say that he did it about thirty minutes ago. "It seemed in keeping. A tribute for you that was obtained in, you know, the manner to which you are accustomed." He shifts uncomfortably as the Taskmaster weighs it in his hand. "Also I thought it would bring out your eyes."

The Taskmaster closes his hand around the pin. "We need to discuss."

"Oh, of course," Richard says. "We'll just be off then-"

"No," the Taskmaster says, making a beckoning motion in the air, and the tribute is collected, aside from the pin, which he slips into his pocket. "You and I need to discuss. Alone."

"Um," Richard says.

"Let's take a walk," the Taskmaster says, standing up from his throne, and he's even taller than Richard thought.

"Help me," Richard says out of the corner of his mouth.

"I wouldn't wait around," the Taskmaster tells Daisy. "You'll receive your answer soon."

Something passes between the two of them, and Daisy grins. "Good luck," she says, patting Richard on the back, and then she just leaves, taking Katherine with her, who just seems confused.

"That's my bodyguard," Richard says, pointing over his shoulder. "I better stay with her."

"I assure you you're going to be well guarded," the Taskmaster says. "You're perfectly safe here." He looks at his assistant. "Tell him."

"Safe as houses," the assistant says, looking down at his notebook. "The Taskmaster is extending his hospitality to you."

"That's good, is it?" Richard says.

"Best you're going to get," the Taskmaster says. "Now come with me."

The Taskmaster walks away, down a hallway. Richard scurries to catch up, because there's just nothing else for it.

\--

Greg keeps his steps somewhat slow, because he could lose anybody he wanted just by walking normally. That's not what he wants, and he hears the footfalls as Richard scampers up beside him, just like Greg knew he would.

Greg is already pretty sure he knows everything he needs to. He just can't help pushing it a little further, because he needs to really see, really get under Richard's skin, make sure he's not trying something. He's starting to think there's no way in hell Richard could pull it off, but that's not enough.

"So you brought me some trinkets," the Taskmaster says as Richard falls in step with him. "What else?"

"I'd hoped that would be it," Richard says, wincing. "I'll admit there have been better tributes through the ages, but we're a small outfit."

"Tributes like wooden horses?" the Taskmaster says.

"I don't know if that was technically a tribute," Richard says.

The Taskmaster stops. The hallway is small, so they're quite close together. It exacerbates how short Richard is; everyone is short next to Greg, but here Richard looks like a slip of a thing, like a little morsel next to a shark.

"I'm very aware of how you look at me," the Taskmaster says. "You want something from me. Everyone can see it. It's written all over your face."

"I wouldn't presume," Richard says, like he really wouldn't, even though he's looking up at Greg with eyes that say everything, open and needy.

"What do you want to get from it?" the Taskmaster says. "Let's be honest with each other."

"I-" Richard says. "I honestly didn't come here trying to- I mean I did but- I'm not here to, you know, to-"

"None of that is helpful to me," the Taskmaster says, watching him squirm. He bends down, looking intently at Richard. "This will get you nowhere. You will get nothing from me with your body."

"Ah," Richard says, with a complicated look on his face that mostly reads as disappointed. "Guess I better be off, then."

"I never said you had to go," Greg says, because by now he's got it figured out.

Richard looks a little bit distraught. "I wish I knew what you meant."

"If you think you can manipulate me by sleeping with me, you're wrong," Greg says, "but I'll still fuck you, if you just want it for its own sake."

"Oh," Richard says, surprised. "Oh, yes please, that's what I was hoping for in the first place." He looks crestfallen. "Do you think I'm the kind of person who would try to seduce you for your favor?"

"That happens to me all the time," Greg says. "People think I'm an easy mark because I'm, well, easy."

"That's disappointing," Richard says, like he genuinely feels for Greg. "No, I just- it's just that you're very attractive and very big."

"So you're that type," Greg says, amused.

"Is that a type?" Richard asks.

"A little bit," Greg says. He takes a step forward, and Richard takes a step back. "Just the type to want to feel small and overwhelmed."

"You must admit that you are very overwhelming," Richard says, and when he steps back again, he's against the wall.

"It suits me," Greg says, the corner of his mouth going up. "And I think maybe what suits you is getting eaten up like a little mouse."

Richard looks like he's going to come out of his skin, like he's going to collapse. "Taskmaster, sir, I-"

"It's Greg, but you are perfectly welcome to stick with 'sir,'" Greg says. "Do you want me to stop?" he adds, in a voice that's kinder.

"No," Richard says quickly. "Definitely not." He swallows. "Sir."

"You're going to be fun," Greg says.

"I think I'm going to swoon," Richard says.

"Well, we can't have that," Greg says. He lets Richard up, and Richard looks almost confused. "Come along."

"I'm not usually quite so flustered," Richard says apologetically, following Greg to a door a little ways down the hall.

"I fluster people as a hobby," Greg says, opening the door. "If you want to be composed, you can do it afterwards."

"I'm not going to ask after what," Richard says.

"Smart boy," Greg says. He nudges Richard inside, gentler than he might have done it to someone else.

The room is, well, nothing, basically. A rotating selection of people have temporarily occupied it, but Alex never cared for the practice. He'd rather keep it ready, for the kinds of things that Alex's mind sees as perfectly normal contingencies; that's why it presently has a false wall that hides a multitude of sins. But mostly, it just looks like a bedroom: a bed, a dresser, a chair, not much else.

The dresser is well stocked with items of a certain nature, because at some point Greg's room became Greg and Alex's room, and it started to feel weird to do things of a certain nature with other people in their bed. This is not the reason it has been left vacant, but it has been extremely useful.

They don't get as far as the bed, because Greg pushes him hard against the wall by the door, grabbing his arms and pinning his wrists above his head. Richard doesn't even act like he's going to fight back, arching towards Greg instead, and Greg bends down and kisses him fiercely. Richard opens up for it immediately, and Greg finds himself taking more time on it than he meant to, just holding Richard fast so he can kiss him as much as he likes.

"Do you want to suck me, or do you want me to fuck you?" Greg asks, when he finally decides to pull away.

"Definitely the fucking, please," Richard says. Greg expected him to be much more skittish, but apparently they're past that part.

"Strip and get on the bed," Greg says, letting him go. "Hands and knees."

Richard shrugs out of his jacket; he looks around briefly for somewhere to put it, and on apparently realizing the chair is all the way across the room, drops it on the floor. The rest of his clothes follow, and soon enough he's naked. He gets onto the bed, kneeling and waiting, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"I said hands and knees," Greg says, walking to the dresser before he gets a response.

"My apologies, sir," Richard says. Greg rummages around, but he only pulls out a small bottle. Things can get complicated later; right now he just wants a taste.

When Greg comes back to the bed, Richard is posed as directed, and he's not looking at Greg. Greg grabs him by the chin, kissing him firmly. It's amazing how easy Richard melts, like there's nothing to him at all. It's completely different to how Alex rolls over for him; Alex has steel at the core of him, but Richard is like a lump of wax. He's going to be great fun to play with.

Greg gets on the bed beside him, running his hand up Richard's back and then down again. He's got a nice little arse, and Greg gives it a smack just because he can. Richard breathes in sharply, but doesn't move away.

"Is that good?" Greg asks, rubbing the offended area.

"Yes, sir," Richard says.

"Are you just telling me that?" Greg says.

"No, definitely not," Richard says, and he sounds completely genuine.

"Good to know," Greg says, and he does it again and again. Richard is wonderfully responsive; he's not theatrically loud, but he's also not quiet. He keeps making little noises, much more aroused than pained. 

Just because it's been tempting him, Greg grabs Richard by the hair with his free hand, pulling. Richard's back bows, his mouth falling open; he looks delicious like this, stripped down. His skin is already turning pink, and Greg wants to see it go just a little darker, so he can't forget, so when he sits down tomorrow he'll be thinking about what happened.

He gets a little bit farther, but in the end it's just too tempting. Richard is so hard that his cock is dripping onto the bed, like he's begging for it. Greg is not willing to let go of Richard's hair, not when it's so perfectly grabbable, so he finds the bottle and uncorks it with his teeth. That presents him with another problem, but upon consideration, he just pours an amount onto the small of Richard's back and runs his fingers through it. That'll get him.

Greg strokes his slick fingers over Richard's hole before pressing in; Richard gasps, but he pushes back. "That's a good boy," Greg says, pushing his fingers in deeper. "Take it for me just like that."

"Yes, sir," Richard says, and he sounds wrecked, but in a good way.

"Do you like it when I tell you you're a good boy?" Greg asks.

"Yes," Richard pants.

"Makes you want to do whatever I say, doesn't it?" Greg says, smirking.

"Oh yes, please," Richard says.

Greg is absolutely going to wrap Richard around his finger. It doesn't even have to do with his little criminal outfit, because it's not worth bothering with. Greg just likes to keep people in his pocket, and having this as a treat sounds delicious.

Greg keeps working his hand, opening him up. Richard is panting, making little desperate noises, like he just can't keep it in. "Are you ready for my cock?" Greg asks.

"Yes, sir," Richard says, voice strained. "I need it, please."

"Then I better give it to you," Greg says. It's only due to practice that he can get his trousers open with one hand, but he does it, moving into position. There's enough oil left for him to slick himself up, and he lines himself up with Richard's entrance. He considers saying something, but it seems superfluous, like a waste of time compared to pushing inside of him. Richard groans, pressing back to get more.

"Like that," Greg says. "Take it like a good boy."

"Oh god," Richard says. "Oh god, oh god-"

"You've said that," Greg says, pushing into him hard, all the way inside.

"Oh fuck," Richard gasps.

Greg laughs breathlessly. He pulls Richard up by his hair, hauling him into place, sitting back so Richard is in his lap. He really is a small man, and it feels good, like he's just a little toy for Greg to play with.

"That's better," Greg says, kissing his neck. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," Richard says, and Greg is struck by how little reluctance there is in any of this. Richard just _wants_ it, no artifice, no games, and it's kind of refreshing.

"Then you're going to get as much as you can handle," Greg says, thrusting into him, a steady rhythm that makes Richard make the best noises, desperate and needy.

Greg means to do this again, so he doesn't stop himself from taking what he wants. He can draw it out some other time, but what he really wants to do is make Richard fall to pieces. It's so easy, barely any time before Richard is sweating, begging for it. He's so close he's shaking, and Greg could just close his hand and break him, crush him like a piece of glass.

"Good boy," Greg says, because it's not the Taskmaster doing this. "Touch yourself. Come for me like a good pet."

"Fuck," Richard says, sounding absolutely wrecked. He takes his cock in his hand immediately, stroking himself quickly. Greg is very aware that this is going to be over very soon, so he moves faster, sinking his teeth into Richard's shoulder. Richard cries out, and Greg feels it, Richard's body hot and tight around his. He can't hold back, slamming in hard and coming, his fingers digging into Richard's hip as he loses control, filling him.

Then they're just there, Richard resting on top of him. It's nice for a minute, but Greg realizes quickly that Richard is going to be absolutely no help in anything. It's fair enough, and it's not like Greg can't move him; instead of interrupting the moment, Greg just hoists Richard off him and puts him on the bed, where he immediately lays back, looking tired and sated.

Greg cleans up as much as he is inclined to, and then he lays down next to Richard. He seems peaceful, but he frowns, looking at Greg seriously. "I really want you to know I would never try to manipulate you with sex."

"You're not a manipulator at all, are you," Greg says, running a hand over his hair.

"People think I'm sweet and cheeky and some of them find it charming, so I've stuck with that instead," Richard says. "I know you have had no occasion to find me charming, because I saw you and sort of fell all over myself."

"Why is that?" Greg asks.

"I-" Richard starts, but he stops, shrugging. "I already let you fuck me, I don't know why I'm trying to play coy. You're just very hot, and power suits you." He laughs, in sort of a self-effacing way. "Makes me want to sit up and beg."

"I'll take it," Greg says, amused. "You can go and tell your syndicate that your tribute has earned the Taskmaster's favor."

"Oh," Richard says, sounding surprised. "Thank you very much." He hesitates, looking at the two of them. "Should I leave out the part where-"

"They've figured it out," Greg says dryly. "I personally don't care if people think you got this by sleeping with me."

"Exposing a weakness that isn't a weakness isn't a problem," Richard says, working through it. "It'll just make people try it, and you can pick them off."

"We'll make a crime boss out of you yet," Greg says. He doesn't say that Richard might well be better as an assistant; where Greg is concerned, that position is permanently closed.

Richard looks like he's choosing his words, in a way that makes Greg very curious. "If you want to keep doing this, for its own sake," he says carefully, "I'm not wearing that nightgown."

Greg laughs in surprise. "Don't worry," he says. "It's not your size."

"I think it's Katherine's size," Richard says.

"Oh, I know," Greg says. "You lot are as subtle as a brick through a window."

"There can be very good reasons to throw a brick through a window," Richard says.

"Well, I can't say you're wrong," Greg says.

\--

"I got word from the Taskmaster," Richard says, when he breezes back into the hideout. 

"What else did you get from the Taskmaster?" Daisy says, smirking.

"A lady never asks and a gentleman never tells," Richard says. "Our tribute has been accepted. We can count the Taskmaster as a problem we don't have to solve."

"What about all the other problems we have to solve?" Johnny asks.

"You're on your own, mate," Richard says. "My thighs are killing me."

"I am joining another gang if that's how we're solving all our problems," Mawaan says.

"Just causes problems, really," Daisy says, stretching.

"If we could perhaps focus on planning right now," Katherine says.

"I love planning," Richard says, stifling a yawn. "Sounds great."

"Planning to fuck the Taskmaster again is not planning," Daisy says.

"I disagree," Richard says. "We need to make sure we keep up our ties with other organizations."

"Jesus Christ," Daisy says, and Richard likes to think she sounds a little fond.

She doesn't, but they get by anyway.


End file.
